Life without Fred
by Indiana Jackson
Summary: A snippet of George's life after Fred's death. Not a happy story,in fact I cried writing it. You have been warned.


**a/n: even after all these years, I still get upset when I think of George without his brother. I wager a good many of you do too. So I wrote this keeping in mind that if JK had offed Arthur and Ron, she was going to pair Hermione with Fred. Instead she wiped _him_ out instead and left George all alone. Why couldn't she have left Ron, Arthur and Fred alone and wiped out, say, Percy? it would have been perfect. He amends things with his family, then dies. **

* * *

Everyday he opened his eyes. Everyday he forgot for a few blessed seconds upon waking that Fred was gone. That his other half, His twin, His soul was dead. Today marked the one year anniversary of the Battle of year since Fred had gone where he couldn't follow. He could no longer produce a patronus, every happy thought included Fred. They didn't think he ever would be able to again. It still pysically pained him to enter the shop that had been their dream, but _Fred's_ idea. He still turned to share an idea with Fred, only to find Ron beside him. Worse, Ron knew that he expected to see Fred instead. For the first six months, he had asked that the mirrors be covered whenever he went home, so as not to see his reflection out of the corner of his eye. After the first few times, his heart couldn't bear thinking it was Fred, somehow come back to him. He had declined the invition ,four months after the battle, to be there when they erected the war memorial just outside the front door of hogwarts. He imagined that quite a few had. George had instead gotten roaring drunk in a pub in Diagon Alley, where Angelina found him with the same intent. They had gotten drunk together, cried over Fred, toasted Fred and even cursed him for leaving them. Somehow they had ended up in bed together and had been together ever since.

He, along with everyone else that had fought, had recieved an invition to the Castle last week. George rolled over and looked at Angelina sleeping next to him, her hand resting on her gently rounded stomach. She had promised him that if this one was a son, his name would be Fred, whether he had Ginger hair or not. George had broken down and cried against her stomach at her softly spoken promise. Angelina gently ran a hand through his hair till he was finished. when he looked up, he saw she had been crying too, but not for Fred. For him. For George.

* * *

Minerva stood at the head of the great hall and slowly raised her goblet before clearing her throat. The entirety of the great hall quieted and looked to her. "A toast to those that were lost. But first, proffessor Flitwick has prepared a song in honor of the fallen. Would all those he chose to sing please join me up here. "

George watched as several people detached themself from the group and made their way up the hall. He was surprised to see Hermione walk the length of the hall next to Luna. He was the only person that had known she loved Fred as more than a surrogate brother. Ginny and he were the only people that knew that Hermione had married Ron as a way of staying close to Fred. After about twenty to thirty people had joined the teachers and arranged themselves, Flitwick motioned for quiet before tipping his head at Luna who softly started singing, to be joined by Hermione and on down the line to the rest. Minerva tapped her wand against a strange box and pictures began to play against the stone wall of the Hall. George's breath caught when he saw Fred's face. It was a magical projection of the fallen. The pictures had a silver tint around the edges and he realized they were pulled memories from the survivors, enchanted to be seen without the use of a pensieve.

_Of all the money, e'er I had,_  
_I spent it in good company,_  
_And all the harm I have ever done,_  
_'Alas it was to none but me._

_And all I've done for want of wit,_  
_To memory now I can't recall,_  
_So fill to me the parting glass,_  
_Goodnight and joy be with you all._

_So fill to me the parting glass,_  
_And drink a health whate'er befalls,_  
_Then gently rise and softly call,_  
_Goodnight and joy be to you all._

_Of all the comrades that e'er I had,_  
_They're sorry for my going away,_  
_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had,_  
_They'd wish me one more day to stay._

_But since it fell into my lot,_  
_That I should rise and you should not,_  
_I'll gently rise and softly call,_  
_Goodnight and joy be to you all._

_Fill to me the parting glass,_  
_And drink a health whate'er befalls,_  
_Then gently rise and softly call,_  
_Goodnight and joy be to you all._

_Fill to me the parting glass,_  
_And drink a health whate'er befalls,_  
_Then gently rise and softly call,_  
_Goodnight and joy be to you all._

As the last notes filled the hall, George realized he had crushed Angelina's hand in his own. Looking around he saw that some had tears streaming down their faces, while others were sobbing and being held by family or friends. Minerva raised her goblet once again and the hall rang with the sounds of others doing the same. Her toast was short, elegant and to the point as she fought back tears of her own. "To all of our fallen. Brothers, sisters, sons, daughters and parents. They gave everything they had so our world could be free of the tyranny of one man. We thank them. "

* * *

_"song is the parting glass. it was traditionally sung at new years before Auld Lang Syne was written. it has been sang by many different authors, and it's so old that i dont know the original writer. If you listen to the peter hollen's version with your eyes closed, you can almost see George singing to his brother's headstone. "_

_ watch?v=3hMdoGet2A8&amp;list=FLPVw-07TpBY5B_N8OCgjrcg&amp;index=22 _


End file.
